


We Could Die Tomorrow and Other Ways to Pick Up Women

by Spooteh (Pawfoot)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Female Sam Winchester, Genderbend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pawfoot/pseuds/Spooteh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They could all be dead tomorrow, and Martha has a proposition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Could Die Tomorrow and Other Ways to Pick Up Women

Martha is not the type of girl Sam usually goes for. She’s often drawn to girls who are, if not as tall as she is, then at least taller than average. When she’s with short women, all of the awkward insecurities about her height high school had supplied come rushing back.

Okay, Ruby hadn’t really been Sam’s type either, but she’s going to call that an anomaly brought on by the insanity of that entire relationship. And it’s not like Sam thinks of Martha like that, not really. Well, maybe once or twice. But it’s not like she’s going to do anything about it.

The world’s ending, and despite Dean’s insistence on shouldering blame, Sam knows it’s pretty much entirely her fault. Sam doesn’t let herself think about Martha like that, because who the hell is she to deserve someone like Martha right now?

So she nurses a beer, forces a laugh when Jo and Ellen make Cas take shots, actually laughs when both Jo and Martha shoot Dean down, and resists the urge to tell him he should try Cas, because she’s not sure how either of them would react. As far as potential last nights on earth go, it’s not too bad, until Castiel says what they’re all thinking.

After that, everyone shuffles off awkwardly to bed. Sam hangs back to put glasses away and bottles in the trash, because the end of the world is no excuse for lack of standards. She’s finished with the shot glasses when she turns around to find Martha right behind her.

“I hate that I’m stealing a line from your brother, but we could die tomorrow,” Martha says, but she doesn’t smile like it’s a line. Her face is serious, like if they don’t come back, Martha would regret not taking this chance.

Sam’s pressed against the counter; she must have stepped back when she realized Martha was so close. Martha doesn’t press in, doesn’t crowd her, and simply waits for Sam to react, looking hopeful.

“I can’t,” she says, and hopes Martha will leave it at that.

Martha’s face goes blank. “Right, yeah. I should have known better to fall for another person who wasn’t interested.”

Sam steps forward without thinking. “It’s not like that! It’s me; I swear it me. I’m not good for people, Martha. I don’t deserve—”

This time, Martha doesn’t give her room; she pushes into Sam’s space. She turns her face up to look Sam in the eye.

“This isn’t about deserving,” she snaps. “You are good, and I like you. You like me. That’s it. Now get your face down here.”

Martha reaches up to thread her fingers into Sam’s hair and drags her head down with the grip. Martha must be on her tiptoes, and Sam’s doubled over. It’s not the most comfortable position, but Martha’s mouth is soft against hers.

Sam slides her hands to Martha’s waist, marveling a little at how tiny she is. She pulls her head back, and Martha makes a noise of protest.

“Up,” Sam says, shifting her hands to grip Martha’s hips.

Fortunately, she gets the idea, and jumps. Sam’s hands slip lower to grab her legs as Martha wraps them around her. Sam grins; the height difference is much less noticeable. Martha is gripping her shoulders tightly, like she’s afraid Sam will drop her.

The idea makes her laugh. “I’ve got you; don’t worry.”

“Who’s worried?” Martha says, before going to kiss her again.

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of their mouths moving against each other, but eventually Martha pulls back to gasp, “Bed.”

She loosens her grip like she’ll walk there, but Sam doesn’t let go. Instead she navigates her way through the house while holding Martha against her.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Martha asks when Sam drops her to the bed.

“Yes,” Sam answers as she strips out of her shirt.

Martha follows suit, and when they next come together, there’s the glorious feel of skin against skin.

“Don’t die tomorrow,” Sam whispers against Martha’s neck.

“I won’t,” Martha says.

Sam kisses her fiercely and wills herself to believe it.


End file.
